


A Birthday Candle

by 8Lottie8



Category: Original Works
Genre: Death, My First AO3 Post, Writing Exercise, creative writing, descriptive piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:08:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11112909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8Lottie8/pseuds/8Lottie8
Summary: Prompt: Write a piece with the title "A Birthday Candle"





	A Birthday Candle

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my English Language GCSE Controlled Assessment two years ago and I have just discovered it hiding in my hard drive. I don't really know what else to say. Enjoy!

A single birthday candle burns on: a spiral of smoke rising from the rubble; together the only remnants of a life finished before it had even begun.

The ghost of a little girl chases her older sister through the house: their bodies now lie in the ruins of the house, the elder’s arm flung over the younger; her guardian angel even in death. The traces of a cake that once held six candles appear as the dust settles – only one candle survives. A photograph in a frame lies on the ground, the protective glass smashed in a cobweb of cracks but the photo, one of a young boy holding his baby sister, remains unharmed. Other photos are not so fortunate. The glass protecting another photo, one of the same boy, older now, showing his sister how to hold their new-born sibling, has not done its job: the photo is littered with marks from flying rubble.

A breeze flutters over the devastation and the candle flickers but burns on, a sign of the resilience of day-to-day life. Already survivors are starting to emerge from their hiding places and carry on, finding comfort in their daily routines. Soon, a team of volunteers will arrive and start to sift through the rubble, but by then the candle will have burnt out long ago.

A cry of anguish echoes through the silence – someone has returned home to find a loved one dead: the weight of what-ifs and could-have-beens bear down on their shoulders, a burden they will carry for the rest of their life.

The sweet, sharp scent of oranges and lemons drifts through the emptiness: a shopping bag filled with groceries ready to be put away has been crushed and the fruits inside have split open, mixing with the dry, dusty air to create a perfume of hope: of survivors, of quick painlesss deaths, of life after death.


End file.
